Music and Money: Why the Market is an Honest Mirror
Should music make money with music? A personal reflection on the difference between music for yourself and music for others.
As an ambient artist, I work in a genre that isn’t exactly known for commercial success. Yet the question keeps coming back to me: Should music make money? And if so, what does that say about its quality?
The Old Debate
The discussion is old and emotionally charged. On one side stand the purists: art should be free from commercial constraints. Money corrupts the creative vision, leads to compromises, dilutes artistic integrity. On the other side, the pragmatists: artists need to make a living, equipment costs money, time is limited. Both perspectives have merit.
But I believe we’re overlooking something crucial: the fundamental difference between music for yourself and music for others.
Music For Yourself vs. Music For Others
When I make music exclusively for myself, as personal expression, as therapy, as experiment, then money doesn’t matter. Then it’s art in its purest sense: a dialogue with myself. And honestly: should I even release this music commercially? Probably not.
But as soon as I produce my music for others, everything changes. Then I enter into a dialogue with listeners. Then I put my work on the line. And then money becomes one of the most honest feedback mechanisms we have.
That might sound harsh, but it’s reality: if nobody is willing to pay for my music, whether through album purchases, streaming, or live performances, then I need to ask myself serious questions. Not whether my music is valuable in an abstract sense. But whether it touches other people enough that they’re willing to give something in return.
The Sobering Reality of Streaming
Let me get concrete: A stream on Spotify generates about 0.003 to 0.004 euros. To reach a minimum wage of 12 euros per hour, I’d need about 3,000 to 4,000 streams. Per hour of work, mind you. For an album I’ve worked on for weeks or months, we’re talking hundreds of thousands of streams just to cover production costs. The reality in the ambient sphere? Most releases never even come close to these numbers.
That’s sobering. But it’s also important to understand: being available doesn’t automatically mean being valued. Thousands of plays might feel good, but they mean practically nothing. A single album purchase on Bandcamp says more about my music’s impact than 10,000 passive Spotify streams.
The Paradox of Free
And here’s where something paradoxical comes into play: What costs nothing is also perceived as worthless. That’s not arrogance, it’s psychology. When I make my music available for free, I unconsciously signal that it has no value. Not just financially. Emotionally and artistically too.
I experience the opposite regularly on Bandcamp. When I release music with “pay what you want,” there are many people who still pay. And often even multiples of what I would normally have charged. I might ask 1.50 euros per track, but people then pay 10 euros or more. Voluntarily.
This has personally shown me that my music apparently means something real to some people. It’s not the masses casually streaming on Spotify. It’s people who consciously decide: this music touches me, and I want to honor that. Sometimes I even receive donations through my shop, completely unexpected, simply as appreciation.
These moments are more honest than any streaming statistic. They show me: yes, the music is reaching people. Not everywhere, not everyone. But where it does reach, it goes deep. And that’s ultimately what counts.
Money As a Natural Filter
In times when anyone with minimal equipment can produce music and release it on all platforms, I see something troubling: the market is being flooded with unrefined material. That makes it damn hard for listeners to find the real gems. And this is exactly where the financial component comes into play. It functions as a natural filter.
This doesn’t mean that only commercially successful music is good. Absolutely not. But it does mean: when I deliberately place my music in the commercial space, I accept the rules of that space. And one of these rules is brutally simple: quality shows itself in people being willing to invest their resources. Their time. Their attention. Their money.
Every Release Is a Test
For me as Logic Moon, this means something very concrete: every release is also a test. Not just artistically, but economically. Am I reaching people? Does my music truly touch them? The market’s feedback is, as unromantic as this sounds, brutally honest. More honest than most friends could ever be.
The alternative would be to view music as pure self-realization. That’s completely legitimate, and I respect anyone who takes that path. But then you should be consistent and not make the music commercially available. If you want both, artistic freedom and commercial release, you have to face the market mechanisms. Period.
The Question of Honesty
In the end, it’s a question of perspective and above all, honesty with yourself: am I making music for myself or for others? The answer to this question determines what role money should play. And I’ve found my answer.